money grubbing

March 16, 2010

“As soon as you come to terms that it’s all about the money and that merit often does not matter, then your frustration will subside.”

That’s what a psychologist friend told me the other day when we were just chatting about life and basketball. We tend to talk a lot about those subjects, but this time we both were particularly down and whiny.

Of course these things about "the way it is" are subjects that I already knew much about and had come to terms with, but it’s always does the soul good to hear it from someone with some true knowledge. No, it didn’t make it feel any better to know that essentially people who have to work for a living are nothing more than a number on some Excel spreadsheet. But whatever...

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Actually, that goes for the people associated with basketball teams that play in the NCAA, too. In a bottom line driven world, there are none shallower than the folks who run the NCAA basketball tournament. If we have learned anything through the years it’s that the feudal system is still at play in the United States and the overlords are the guys who run college sports.

This is not to say the NCAA Tournament isn’t a great event. Far from it. In regard to sports playoff systems—both professional and amateur—it’s tough to top the annual basketball tournament the NCAA puts on for its top Division I teams. Each team is assigned a spot on a grid that corresponds directly to its strength in the field, a venue and a game time are decided upon and the players are given a ball to hash it out.

It can’t get any purer than that.

And as long as no one peaks behind the curtain than no one will be the wiser. Actually, the selection committee is kind of like how author Eric Schlosser describes the meat industry in his book, “Fast Food Nation” and the people will close their eyes and open their mouths for anything as long as they aren’t told how the animals are slaughtered.

In this case it’s how the teams are chosen. Look, every year someone or some group is disappointed about being left out or underrated. It’s a cliché at this point because it happens, every single year.

But that doesn’t make it right. Since there is no oversight or even direct knowledge of how the process comes together, it seem OK to assume that teams are placed in the venue and in a matchup that will get the most money for the NCAA. That’s fine as long as it’s explicit. The trouble is it is not. Just like the NCAA wants to make billions off the backs of teenagers playing a game in exchange for free classes and room and board, I’d love to know how the NCAA selection committee arrived at the fact that Temple is only good enough for a No. 5 seed in its tourney and Villanova is a No. 2.

Perhaps I’d even ask why some of the so-called “mid-majors” were left out when they very well might play more entertaining basketball than a “major” school team, but I already know the answer. Though perennial powers like UCLA, Connecticut, Arizona, Indiana and defending national champion North Carolina, are out of it this year, the committee chose to bump up the prestigious basketball schools instead of giving others at some marquee matchups.

The NCAA hears the complaints and brushes it off as one would expect, saying there are complaints every year and the tournament is always good. Still, that’s not the point. Apparently Toyota made a quality, affordable and an efficient car until the brakes stopped working on a few of them. What if the CEO of the car company said, “Yeah, I know the brakes don’t work, but look at the wax job on that thing… It’s sparkly!”

The NCAA basketball tournament is as shiny as the most precious diamond, but beauty has its price and no one is going to watch a basketball game just because it’s exciting. Oh no, people are far too shallow to figure out on their own what is good or not. That’s where the NCAA selection committee comes in with acronyms like RPI and formulas for measuring the strength of a team’s schedule or its quality wins. For instance, Temple finished the season as the top team in the Atlantic 10 conference and won the tournament championship for the third year in a row. That’s a pretty impressive feat and when coupled with an RPI ranking as the No. 8 team in the country, Temple should be looking at a No. 2 seed at best and a No. 3 at worst.

Right?

Conversely, Villanova checked in as the No. 4 best team in the Big East, a one-game exit from the conference tourney and an RPI of 11. Based on that, the best-case scenario puts Villanova as a No. 3 seed or a comfortable No. 4.

That was easy… or was it.

Well, it’s easy until the intangibles are factored in. Stray too far from North Broad Street and there aren’t too many people who can name a single player on the Temple team. Hell, most folks probably believe John Chaney is still the coach of the team and only know him as the guy who wanted to strangle John Calipari.

Meanwhile, Villanova got to the Final Four last season by winning one of the most exciting games of the tournament. Plus, coach Jay Wright is as genuine, stylish and as affable as they come in college basketball and his top player, Scottie Reynolds, is one of the all-time greats for a school with a proud basketball tradition. He’s been written about in Sports Illustrated and everything. Maybe that’s why a lot of the top college basketball pundits say Villanova will get to the Final Four on a route that is not nearly as difficult as last season.

So is this starting to make sense now? And if it is why do we even bother with things like RPI and strength of schedule and all of those other crazy metrics? Why not start with UCLA, Kentucky, North Carolina, Kansas and Duke and set it up around those teams? Then, if those teams are having a bad year, just bump up the second class or the better teams from whichever glamour conference (Big East, ACC, Big Ten, SEC or Pac-10) is playing well.

See, there doesn’t need to be all this frustration and depression about wrong and right. They already sold all the commercial time so just close your eyes and open up wide.

March 09, 2009

When the free-agency period opened in the NFL last week, the biggest name on the market was Albert Haynesworth. Last season for the Titans, Haynesworth went to his second straight Pro Bowl on the strength of 8½ sacks in 14 games.

Not bad, but not exactly Reggie White, either.

Meanwhile, in eight NFL seasons, Haynesworth has never played in 16 games and his Tennessee Titans teams have gone to the playoffs four times with high water mark an appearance in the 2002 AFC Championship game.

Again, good. Not spectacular.

Most notably, though, Haynesworth is best known for his violent acts on the field as opposed to his work as a defensive tackle. In 2006 he was suspended for ripping off the helmet of a Dallas Cowboys player so he could dish out a more violent stomping.

The victim, Andre Gurode, received 30 stitches near his right eye as well as blurred vision and headaches that lasted a month.

The bad behavior continued in 2008 when Haynesworth was fined for slamming running back Maurice Jones-Drew to the ground. That incident occurred after a training camp outburst in which Haynesworth kicked teammate Justin Hartwig in the chest before teammates could rush in to hold him back from dishing out more violence.

Nice guy, huh?

The icing on the cake was a warrant for Haynesworth's arrest in 2006 stemming from a traffic incident in Tennessee. The charges in the case were tossed by a judge because of a technicality.

So yeah, Haynesworth certainly has put his name out there for all to see. Though hardly the NFL's most well-known player or even its most notorious, Haynesworth apparently is talented enough on the field for the Washington Redskins - a team that charges its fans for parking and admission to summer training camp sessions - to sign him to a $100 million contract in which a league-record $41 million is guaranteed.

In other words, Haynesworth just might have received the best contract in the history of the NFL. He could go out and get injured tomorrow and still have $41 million on the way.

March 03, 2009

It’s really a ridiculous phrase if you stop and think about it. Actually, it’s one of those idioms that is an established part of our lexicon that results in solemn nods or resigned shoulder shrugs whenever someone lays it out there.

Well, it’s just business.

What in the name of Gordon Gecko does that mean?

Apparently, it means anything goes. It means if the world is a rat race then it’s OK to be a rat. It means Tessio is going to have to go for a ride with Tom Hagen and he’s not going to be able to talk his way out of it.

“Tell Mikey it’s just business, it’s not personal.”

Maybe if Bernie Madoff or AIG would have trotted out a line from The Godfather, things could have turned out better. Or maybe if those big execs with all the bailout money who rolled into Washington in private planes to take a Congressional beatdown would have said, “Yes Congressman, it is wasteful, but it’s business, you know.”

Business like AIG losing (poof!) $61 billion in three months before collecting a cool $30 billion from me and you via the folks we elected.

Apparently sports is a business, too. For instance, look at baseball – MLB commish Bud Selig took home $18.35 million last year while his game raked in $6.5 billion in revenues yet still laid off a bunch of employees.

January 11, 2008

It's easy to tell when it's an election year when the phone calls soliciting money roll in faster than those annoying calls from Verizon (how they get past the No-Call List is befuddling). Nevertheless, my name is on some list, which means the relatively nice folks begging for money for presidential candidate Barry Obama ring me up more than occasionally. And since I have strong jackass tendencies I pick up the phone to listen to the spiel even though I have caller-ID and know exactly what they want.
After all, who doesn't want a little manufactured self-righteous indignation to share with the other folks hanging out with the kids at the monkey bars.
Anyway, Obama's beggars called up again yesterday and the conversation went a little something like this:
Me: Hello.
Me: Hello!
Me: HELLO!
Beggar: Mr. Finger?
Me: Yes.
Beggar: Uh, hello John, how are you? I'm calling from the campaign for Barrack Obama and...
Me: Wait, we're on a first-name basis?
Beggar: What?
Me: What?
Beggar: Excuse me?
Me: Never mind.
Beggar: Uh, yeah, I'm calling from the presidential campaign for Barrack Obama and as you know he was just three points behind in New Hampshire, so we're really trying to work hard to drum up the support and ...
Me: Yeah, looks like it's a two-person race from here on out.
Beggar: ... also we had a really good weekend where we raised $XX million for Barrack for President, which is one of our best weekends to date.
Me: Wow. Congratulations.
Beggar: Yeah, so we're looking to keep the momentum going and we're asking for your help by...
Me: Great. What can I do? Canvassing? Hand out leaflets at the community center? Hang up posters. Back when Mondale ran against Reagan in '84 my school project was to get involved with a campaign, but interestingly the local Mondale group was more like a ...
Beggar: ... sending us $250.
Me: Huh?
Beggar: If you could send us $250 it would really help.
Me: $250? You want money from me?
Beggar: Yes. If you could send $250 it would really help the momentum we have coming out of New Hampshire.
Me: But I thought you guys had a really good weekend?
Beggar: We did.
Me: Really?
Beggar: Yes, we raised $XXX million.
Me: So what do you need my money for?
Beggar: What?
Me: Yeah, what do you need my money for? You called here to brag about how much money you raised last weekend and how you had all this momentum and how you needed my help.
Beggar: Yes, we need your help. Can I put you down for $250?
Me: Don't you want my vote instead?
Beggar: What?
Me: Let me ask you this question?
Beggar: Go ahead.
Me: Would you rather have my vote or my money?
Silence.
Me: Yeah, that's what I thought. That one isn't on the script is it?
Beggar: So can we count on your help?
Me: I might vote for your guy, but then again I might not. To be honest, calling around asking for money instead of votes makes your guy sound like less like a politician or a statesman and more like a whore.
Beggar: A what?
Me: A whore.
Beggar: A whore?
Me: Yes, a whore. If your guy has good ideas he won't need to go around asking for working folk's money.
Beggar: So can we count on your help?
Me: Maybe. I might vote for your guy but it depends.
Beggar: What does it depend on?
Me: Whether or not your guy would rather have my vote or my money.
Click.